


This Is A Gift, It Comes With A Price

by infraredphaeton



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Family Feels, Gen, M/M, TYL!Guardians, boss!Tsuna, guardian feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-08
Updated: 2015-06-08
Packaged: 2018-04-03 11:43:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4099717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/infraredphaeton/pseuds/infraredphaeton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A heart is a heavy thing to hold. Tsuna is willing to bear the weight of seven. Post-battle, Tsuna does his own kind of triage. Familial All27, implied 5927. TYL!Guardians. Boss!Tsuna.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Is A Gift, It Comes With A Price

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Florence + The Machine’s Raise It Up.  
> italics symbolise either emphasis or non-Italian speech. It’s pretty obvious which is which, I think.  
> Going with the canon that the Arcobaleno slowly age up after the curse is broken, so Reborn is occupying a 13/14 year old body as of this story. Technically that means Lambo is older than him. Imagine the gloating.

This Is A Gift, It Comes With A Price  
Summary: A heart is a heavy thing to hold. Tsuna is willing to bear the weight of seven. Familial All27, implied 5927. TYL!Guardians. Boss!Tsuna.  
Disclaimer: None of it’s mine, except the incidentals

\--

The aftermath was difficult. The aftermath of any fight that involved the Tenth’s Guardians was always difficult, but when Tsuna himself had actually taken damage? When he was bleeding? It just got harder. The battle had raged for weeks- the only comparable fight Tsuna could think of was the hellish future they’d managed to avoid- and Tsuna was seeing spiders in the shadows, he’d been awake so long (he’d long since forgone such classy caffeine sources as coffee, going straight for a shot of REDLINE, which made his heart stutter in his chest, but kept his eyelids up for another eight hours) and his arms, from his fingertips to his biceps, were wrapped in fresh white bandages, which were already beginning to stain red. But the fight was over now, and as much as Tsuna wanted to fall over and sleep right there in the first aid tent, he was the Decimo, and he had duties. Reborn was catnapping in the corner, fedora tilted down over his thirteen year old face, and Tsuna softly paced the tent hall, checking on the wounded.  
“Don’t you think you’ve procrastinated enough, stupid student?” Reborn’s voice was soft with exhaustion and overuse, and the bags beneath his eyes looked scary on such a young face. A young face- Tsuna had been about that age when Reborn had come to Namimori, hadn’t he?  
“Hey. Idiot.” Reborn threw a bandage roll at him lazily, hitting Tsuna in between the eyes, over the little patch bandage that covered the burn from flame-overuse. “Triage. Go do the most important job first.”  
“Right. Do you know…”  
“Hibari’s on the outer wall,” Reborn interrupted smoothly, tugging his hat back down over his eyes and putting his feet up.  
“Are you sure you can’t read minds?” Tsuna asked, and Reborn sighed lightly.  
“I’m too tired to shoot you. Be grateful for that.”  
Tsuna nodded, smiling a little, and a first aid kit connected with his forehead.  
“Hiiiiie!”  
“Too tired to shoot you, Dame-Tsuna, not too tired to mess you up.” Reborn cracked an eye open and scowled. “Go do your job. A lazy student looks bad on my resume.”  
“Yes, Reborn.”

Hibari was the easiest, as strange as it sounded. The easiest, and therefore, Tsuna started there. He nodded to various men as he passed them on the walk, heading up to the wall- specifically, the suspiciously empty section, where a single lanky figure perched on the edge, staring out over the battlefield.  
“Kyoya,” Tsuna said, coming to stop a few metres away, and Hibari turned to look at him. He was as tired as Reborn looked, with a dark, heavy bruise stretching from jaw to temple on his left side, and he was missing his old gakuran- which Hibari would never admit an attachment to, despite keeping it for over a decade. He was mostly asleep, Tsuna could tell, eyes slitted almost shut, wedged into the gap between two battlements, lazily watching the field. Next to him, Kusakabe kept watch, looking even more beaten up than his boss, an AK47 over one shoulder. They’d switch places soon, and it would be Kusakabe’s chance to half-sleep, while Hibari snarled at anyone who came near. Tsuna and Kusakabe exchanged nods as he padded a little closer, and Hibari looked up and away from the field.

Tsuna was exhausted too, but his job wasn’t over yet. Not yet.

After a fight, Hibari wanted no more than a nod, a sign between almost-equals, and a safe place to wrap whatever wounds he’d suffered. He wanted a signal that there was still trust there, that he was still welcome. Not that he wanted to be where he was welcome, but that there was still a place that he would, hypothetically, be welcome.  
And he was. He always would be. Tsuna nodded to Hibari, who nodded back, and relaxed almost imperceptibly. Then, he pulled off his own dark jacket, and offered it to the ex-prefect, who sniffed loudly, looking away.  
“Just until you can get a replacement, Kyoya,” Tsuna said, smiling slightly, and Hibari reached out and grabbed the jacket, settling it over his shoulders.  
“I’m going to smell like a herbivore,” he growled, and Kusakabe let out a tiny sigh of relief, “this is just temporary, you understand?”  
“Of course,” Tsuna agreed, and Hibari sniffed, pulling himself up to his feet.  
“I’m going to sleep. Try not to die.” He knocked into Tsuna’s shoulder as he passed, and Tsuna let a little of his flame leak into Hibari’s system. Just enough to remind him that he was part of a Family, not just the mafia. Kusakabe nodded at Tsuna as he followed his boss down towards the first aid tent that was playing temporary barracks.  
“One down, six to go,” Tsuna murmured to himself, and half-staggered towards Chinoisette, one of the Mist lieutenants.  
“Have you seen Chrome? Or Mukuro?” he asked politely, trying not to lean too heavily on the wall.  
“Ah, Miss Chrome is helping shore up the saboteur tunnels,” Chinoisette, a tall french woman with somehow still perfect eyeliner, said softly in her accented Italian. “M. Mukuro is with her, je pense. Ah, sir, should you perhaps go sit down?”  
“I will,” Tsuna agreed easily, and headed for the saboteur tunnels.

 

His Mist Guardians were harder to please than Hibari, but too twitchy for the kind of easy affection he could give his other friends. They required finesse. They needed a lie that would let them leave without losing face. They were a pain in the ass, when Tsuna had a headache the size of Mt. Vesuvius, and about as friendly as that particular mountain on Volcano Day. The saboteur tunnels emptied into a brown tent, and Tsuna ducked through the mud covered flap to look for the pair. They were standing shoulder to shoulder, in mud stained indigo greatcoats, Chrome frowning in concentration as Mukuro softly snapped out orders to the scurrying mass of subordinates below them. He didn’t need to speak above a normal conversational voice, the emphasis of his soft kukukus drawing the ear of their workers as clearly as a megaphone.  
Tsuna came to a stop next to Chrome, leaving Mukuro to cover her blind side.  
“Well, it looks like you have this under control,” Tsuna said with a soft smile, and Mukuro wiped mud off his hand before stroking his chin contemplatively.  
“I always have things under control, Tsunayoshi.”  
“Of course, of course.” Tsuna nodded, standing in silence for a few minutes as Chrome continued to run illusionary construction equipment.  
“Boss, did you need something?” Chrome asked, sweat darkening the hair at her temples, and Tsuna shook his head.  
“You’ve done a great job,” Tsuna said, and Chrome flushed slightly, while Mukuro pointedly looked away. “Actually, I was hoping you could do me a favour?”  
“Never,” Mukuro said, stripping off his gloves and putting his hands in his pockets. “We’re done here. Chrome, get the lackeys. We’re going to go rest.”  
“Oh dear,” Tsuna said, completely without expression, and Chrome giggled lightly, “What a shame.”  
“How dare you ask us to keep working. We’ve already done more than we should,” Mukuro said, because that was always what he said, and Tsuna faked a heavy sigh of disappointment as the Mist guardian slipped out towards the first-aid tent.  
“What did you need, boss?” Chrome asked, soft and polite.  
“Well, Chrome, to be honest, I need you and Mukuro to eat something and get some rest,” Tsuna ordered, clapping her on the shoulder gently and letting a small dart of his flame escape into her system and Chrome giggled again, suddenly re-energised.  
“Mukuro-sama and I will get the job done,” she said, saluting jokingly, and went to go grab Ken and Chikusa, who were supervising the collapse of another tunnel. Yamamoto would be in the annex, cleaning his swords, probably. Tsuna turned, closing his eyes for a second so the sudden turn wouldn’t make him too dizzy. Three more.

 

“Oi, Tsuna, you look like you’re about to fall down.” Yamamoto’s voice was somehow still cheerful, and Tsuna smiled at him, taking a seat opposite him as he cleaned blood off his sword with shaking fingers.  
“Ah, do I?” he pressed his hands to his cheeks, feeling the cold, “I guess I’m pretty tired.”  
“Well, if you’re only pretty tired, maybe you can do another round out on the field,” Yamamoto said, grinning, and Tsuna knocked their knees together under the table.  
“You’re all still so mean to me. I’m pretty sure you’re meant to respect me as your boss,” Tsuna said, pouting a little.  
Yamamoto’s hands were a little stronger as he threw away another shammy cloth, picking up his- Tsuna took a quick look in the waste basket- fifth, to begin cleaning off his second sword.  
Yamamoto needed things to be normal. He needed to be reminded that he was Yamamoto Takeshi, baseball enthusiast and kind of a dork, not just Yamamoto Takeshi, rain guardian and natural hitman. So Tsuna sighed, slumping harder onto his hands and propping his elbows on the desk.  
“Just another couple of rounds, boss. I’m sure it’s not problem if you’re just a little sleepy, right?” Yamamoto teased, and Tsuna smiled back.  
“Well, if Yamamoto-kun is feeling well enough to be mean, maybe he’s well enough to help out with my paperwork instead of getting dinner?”  
“Ara, look at the time? Is it dinner already?” Yamamoto said, quickly oiling his blades and picking up a handful of ricepaper.  
“I’m not going to make you do my paperwork, Yamamoto-kun. I’m not that cruel. I’m not Reborn.” Tsuna chided him, and Yamamoto laughed a little- it sounded rusty. There hadn’t been much time for laughing the last few weeks.  
“Why are you calling me Yamamoto, huh?”  
“Why are you calling me boss?” Tsuna asked, “We’re not at the negotiating table, you know. We don’t need our good manners.”  
“I’m pretty sure this is the negotiating table,” Yamamoto said, looking down at the scarred desk, covered in bloody cloths and swords, “actually.”  
“You know what I mean,” Tsuna said, flapping a hand, and Yamamoto laughed again.  
“Still the same Tsuna, eh?”  
“Still the same Takeshi, too,” Tsuna said, taking a piece of rice paper from his guardian’s hand and starting to wipe down one of the blades.  
The wrinkles between Takeshi’s brows unwrinkled, and he straightened in his seat a little.

“You should go get some dinner, Takeshi.” Tsuna said, once all the blades were clean and the waste basket had been tucked under the ex-negotiating table.  
“Are you coming?” Takeshi asked, standing up and sliding his chair back into place.  
“Soon.”  
“If you’re after Lambo, he’s up in the crow’s nest,” he said, nodding towards the stairs in the back of the room.  
“It’s not a ship, Takeshi.”  
“It could be a ship! Hey, Tsuna, how do you feel about switching from a mafia game to a pirate game?”  
Tsuna laughed lightly, but his eyes were serious, and he leaned in, putting a hand of Takeshi’s shoulder, letting a tiny wisp of flame drop into his guardian’s system. “Sorry, Takeshi. I think I’m too attached to this one.”  
“Eh, me too!” Takeshi said, sparkle back in his eyes as he slid the swords back into place on his belts, “We’ll catch up later, right?”  
“Right.”

Lambo was always easy. That was good. Tsuna would need the break before he dealt with Ryohei, he thought, climbing the stairs. He knocked on the door, the right 3-4-2 pattern, and heard the door bolt unslot. One of the snipers- Gerard, one of the new world Vongola, from New Jersey- nodded and stood aside, letting Tsuna into the little circular room at the top of the tower.  
Lambo was bent over a sniper rifle, lying on his stomach as Francisco whispered wind speed and direction.  
“Lambo, we’re done for the night,” Tsuna said, refusing to slouch against the wall.  
“Tsuna-nii!” Lambo bounced up from the rifle, turning and shooting Tsuna a wide grin. “You’re back!”  
“You did very well today, Lambo,” Tsuna said, as Lambo pulled him into a hug. Lambo was still very young. Very young, and as much as he liked to pretend that being fifteen made him mature and too cool for affection, he still as clingy as he had been at five.  
“Well, you know. I tolerate challenges. Not that they’re challenges. I, the great Lambo, am completely unchallenged,” Lambo said into Tsuna’s shoulder, and Tsuna walked him down the stairs, listening to how Lambo had finally figured out the kick on his new rifle, and how even though he preferred propelled explosives, he was starting to understand the mature finesse of a sniper rifle- he made it sound like a kid starting to appreciate coffee instead of hot chocolate. Tsuna made all the right sounds, softly combing through Lambo’s unruly hair, ignoring the little flashes of pain from his bandaged hands as he dropped another wisp of sky into the younger boy. Lambo sighed heavily, headbutting Tsuna’s shoulder gently as he fed a tiny bit of lightning back, and Tsuna laughed lightly.  
“Very well today, Lambo. I’m impressed, really.”  
“Am I going to get a medal? I should really get a medal.”  
“We’ll see,” Tsuna said, opening the annex door, and found Takeshi leaning against the wall outside, nodding to passing Vongola. “Hey, Takeshi, do you want to take Lambo to get something to eat?”  
“Mm, I guess I could. Come on, kid.”  
“I’m fifteen! I’m not a kid anymore!” Lambo frowned, trotting at the swordsman’s heels, and Tsuna and Takeshi traded a rueful, oh, children, type look.

 

Tsuna took a moment to make sure they all entered the first aid tent, and then took another moment to make sure he could stand up after he took the first moment. It was a near thing, and he held his breath for a moment as the courtyard swam in his vision.  
“Sir, I’m sorry to interrupt, but Sasagawa-senpai needs to see you,” said an anxious looking young man in a doctor’s coat. “I think he’s going to fall over.”  
Tsuna really, really wanted to say that we was going to fall over too, but simply nodded, heading for the triage section of the first aid tent as the doctor- Mario Blancato, Sicilian born, three sisters- lead the way. Well, he tried to lead the way, but Tsuna stopped at every bed.  
“Thank you,” said a man with a gunshot wound, and Tsuna smiled at him.  
“No, thank you. The family appreciates your sacrifice, Luca.”  
“Boss? What are you doing here?”  
“Emilio, you were a credit to your father on the field. Thank you.” Tsuna said solemnly, clasping the one legged man’s hand.  
Luca, Emilio, Guido, Marcellino, Ale, Pasqualle, Alessandro, the list went on, but Tsuna didn’t let his smile falter.  
“Sasagawa-senpai, while we appreciate your help, you need to look after yourself as well. You’ve been fighting non-stop. You need to rest.”  
“I’m going to help until I am extremely unable to!” replied a strident voice, and Tsuna finished shaking Livio’s hand and ducked behind the screen.  
“Ah, Ryohei-nii! I’m so glad I found you. Are you busy?”  
“Extremely!” Ryohei said, looking up from where he was slowly sealing a wound on a young man’s leg. “What do you need, Sawada?”  
“Could you make a call for me? Kyoko hasn’t heard from us yet today, and I’m really busy.” Tsuna said, holding out a cellphone.  
“Ah, here?” Ryohei frowned, looking around the room.  
“Mm. Maybe not? Have you eaten yet?”  
“Not today, but I’m not extremely hungry.”  
“I’m sure it’ll be quieter than here, though. Kyoko hasn’t heard from you in a while, has she?”  
“Ah, I know what you’re doing, Sawada!” Ryohei laughed, taking the phone from Tsuna’s hand, and knuckled Tsuna’s hair, mussing it up a little more.  
“You caught me, onii-san! Still, I think the medics can find you if they need more help, right, doctors?”  
They agreed quickly, and Ryohei laughed.  
“I guess I’m tapping out then, huh? Not very extreme at all!”  
“I’ll take over,” Tsuna said, and they tapped knuckles, letting Tsuna send a flame into his sun guardian’s system.  
“Do you want to sit down?” asked Mario, looking sympathetic, “there’s a spare cot in the back room, still. I’m sure they can do without you for five minutes.”  
Tsuna went to leave, and spots rose up in his vision.  
“Maybe five minutes,” he agreed weakly, and Mario guided him into the back room.  
“Five minutes, sir.”

 

Tsuna woke up feeling not quite so much like death. He also woke up decidedly not in the creaky cot in the backroom of the triage tent, but instead in the small bedroom he’d been using for the last three weeks, in the narrow bed that he’d barely seen since arriving. He wasn’t alone, either. A familiar silver head was poking up over the top of a book- trashy sci-fi with a pin-up girl alien with little antennae on the cover-, his hand under a familiar beringed hand.  
Last job, Tsuna thought, sitting up a little in bed.  
“Whoa! Jyuudaime, don’t push yourself!” Gokudera immediately dropped his book on the bedside table, not bothering to mark his page as he pushed at Tsuna’s shoulders.  
“According to Macchia, you spent- not all day, like you promised- about half an hour in the infirmary dealing with flame exhaustion, and then proceeded to give more of your flame away! That’s. Jyuudaime!” Gokudera wailed, not willing to actually tell Tsuna off, but obviously distressed, and Tsuna couldn’t help smiling a little.  
“I’m fine, Hayato.”  
“You’re not fine!” Gokudera said, crossing his arms, “Mario couldn’t even wake you up, you know!”  
Tsuna sighed, edging deeper into the bed, and raised an eyebrow at Gokudera, who twitched, looking at the space with obvious longing.  
“Hayato. Come on.”  
“You’re injured.”  
“I’m not that injured. I’m not planning on running a marathon, just resting.”  
“You had severe flame exhaustion. Even Sasagawa and Reborn working together barely managed to-” Gokudera went pale, pressing his lips together.  
“Well, I feel a lot better.”  
“Not that much better,” Gokudera said, going to pick up his book.  
“Hayato,” Tsuna repeated, adding the tiniest edge of pout, and Gokudera folded like a napkin, scrambling up onto the bed next to Tsuna, who relaxed and rested his head on Gokudera’s narrow chest. His heart was beating too fast. It always did, when they did this, Tsuna could hear it through his jacket, and he slung one bandaged arm over Gokudera’s waist, getting comfortable.  
“I’m sorry, Jyuudaime. I should have been-”  
“You were organising the dispatch orders for the East base, weren’t you?” Tsuna asked, and Gokudera bit his lip.  
“I should have done it faster. I could have done it in the infirmary, after all. This is my fault-”  
“Hayato. I’m trying to sleep. I’m very tired.”  
“Sorry, Jyuudaime, I can-” he went to sit up, but Tsuna refused to move his grip. “J-Jyuudaime?”  
“I’m very tired, Hayato-kun. Please stop moving,” Tsuna said in Japanese, too tired for Italian, and Gokudera went as red as his tee-shirt.  
“Hai, Jyuudaime.”  
“Keep watch for me, Hayato-kun. I trust you to keep me safe,” Tsuna added sleepily, and Gokudera vibrated under him for a moment, before Tsuna made an unhappy sound, and he stilled, a hand tentatively coming up to rest on Tsuna’s hair.  
“Anything for you, Jyuudaime.”

Gokudera needed to feel needed, after a battle.  
Which worked out rather handily, Tsuna thought, falling asleep to the scent of gunpowder and sweat and Gokudera’s obnoxious AXE deodorant, because Tsuna always ended up needing him.

**Author's Note:**

> Redline is the most caffeinated energy drink in the world. Doctors recommend no more than half a serve in 24 hours.  
> And it’s true, you really do see spiders if you don’t sleep for long enough.  
> Triage is the system of choosing who to treat during emergencies- you deal with the worst injured who can still survive, ignoring those who will die, and then work your way to the least injured.  
> Saboteur tunnels are used in siege warfare to plant explosives under enemy encampments, and collapsing them is messy and dangerous work- perfect for illusions that can affect real life.  
> I feel bad, Ryohei didn't get much time- I'm not very good at him or Yamamoto.  
> Nobody can make me believe that Gokudera doesn't wear AXE deodorant and very expensive cologne. It's very sad, someday he will realise that wearing AXE ruins the point of good cologne, but until then, he just smells like AXE.


End file.
